What I did on my summer vacation...

It's summer. The road beckons. You really need a vacation. But you have this idea for a book, too, that needs a bit of research.

So which will it be? That well-deserved vacation, or a research trip?
Why not combine the two? You can save some money, and you can take at least part of the trip off of your taxes (if you're earning at least some income from your writing, anyway.)

Or maybe you travel for work, as my husband and I often do. Again, you can combine the day job with some research if you plan ahead. There are a few things you'll need to pack to make the most of your trip: a camera, a journal, a good map, and a sturdy pair of walking shoes.

Recently my husband and I had to make a trip to California. I'm working on a book that centers around a Native American tribe that descended from the ancient Pueblo dwellers, and I really needed to do some research. We left a few days early for the trip and took a detour through Colorado, Utah, and Nevada. Our first stop was Durango, Colorado, where I've decided my heroine will live and own her business. One night in Durango was all I needed to soak up the atmosphere, get a feel for the town and the type of business she might have there, and to get details such as street names, local hang outs, restaurants, etc.

Thirty minutes down the road took us to Mesa Verde National Park. Oh, the ideas I got there! I figured out where her tribe lives now, where they fled to when threatened by outside enemies. We spent a full day exploring the park, took hundreds of pictures, and challenged ourselves by hiking down to one of the cliff dwellings for a tour. The experience was something I couldn't get by reading a book, searching online, or even from talking to someone who had been there. I had to experience the breathtaking heights, the heat, the grueling hike for myself. I needed to sit and imagine my characters in this place.









From there we took a short fifteen minute side trip to the Anasazi Cultural Center where I learned so much about my characters' ancestors and how they lived. I even got to see a restored Kiva, where these people gathered for their religious ceremonies.








The rest of the trip was a drive to the Four Corners, which took us through Indian reservations, and then it was on to California. On the way, I got to see and feel the desolation and isolation (as well as growing furious with our government for what they did to such a proud people by banishing them to lands no one else would want).


Now I had motivation, I had conflict, I had emotion to go in my story, as well as details. All for a total cost of about $250, including gas, food, and lodging. To me, it was a priceless experience.

I hope everyone gets to take a vacation this summer. You need it. You deserve it. But try to include some research on your trip, or at least take notes on your destination in case you want to use it in a future book. It will be well worth the effort.

Have any of you taken memorable research trips? Tell us about them!

Happy Travels!

Tori

Labels: working while vacationing

posted by Tori Scott @ 7:52 AM 5 comments

Mellow Out with a Mojito

Labels: mojito recipe

posted by Mo H @ 11:20 AM 1 comments

Come on in–the water's fine

by Terry McLaughlin

When I was nine years old, my life changed. In the space of one long plane flight on a February day, my family traded the snow and ice of Spokane, Washington for the palm trees and balmy ocean breezes of Southern California. I had a new home, a new school, and a pool in my backyard.

Dad had promised to buy a house with a pool, and he delivered, even though the house part of the deal was a mess. Mom was horrified when she saw the damaged rooms and leak-stained ceilings, but by the end of our first summer in Palos Verdes, she'd forgiven Dad for choosing such a disaster. She was as much in love with that pool as we were–she said it was the best babysitter ever invented.

Dad cranked up the pool heater every year during the last week of school, and he shut things down when school started again in September. Summer vacation was pool time, and we loved every moment in the water. We'd actually cry and complain when Mom insisted we spend the occasional day at Redondo Beach.

On a typical summer day, we five kids rose early in the morning, donned our suits, and climbed out a back bedroom window to dive in. An hour or so later, Mom would appear with a tray and five bowls of cereal, and we'd line up at the shallow end for breakfast, staying in the water as we ate. Except for lunch, dinner, and bathroom breaks, we'd swim until bedtime, getting pruny fingers, plaster-blistered feet, and mousy nose-guard lines in our deep tans. The first year, we all came down with cases of green hair, too, until Dad learned how to adjust the chemicals.

Five kids can be extremely creative with water play. We'd stretch the garden hose across the deep end or float inner tubes near the diving board and challenge each other to leaping contests. We invented complicated underwater games with handicaps to allow for the differences in our ages. One summer we dragged our swing set to the edge of the pool and enjoyed a few minutes with our new pool slide and an exciting game of swinging out and into the water until Mom came dashing from the house to put an end to the fun.

Mom and Dad enjoyed the pool, too. One night, one of my brothers awoke with a tummy ache and wandered through the house, searching for missing parents. He heard some splashing, turned on the pool light, and the splashing turned to screams. That's when we all learned about skinny dipping.

The smell of chlorine, the warmth of sunshine on water-slick skin, the splash of a cannonball jump, the bright colors of extra-large beach towels–poolside will always mean summer to me.

Do you swim during summer? Did you enjoy poolside days during your childhood? What are some of your favorite swim games?

Labels: pool, summer, swimming, Terry McLaughlin, vacation

posted by Terry McLaughlin @ 1:00 AM 7 comments

The Beach

What says summertime more than the beach? Let's pack our beach bags and head down there right now. I've got my sunscreen, my beach towel, a book by one of the members of the the Wet Noodle Posse, a beach umbrella, my beach chair and a pair of sunglasses. Some of you might want to bring a paddle ball game or a Frisbee or a kite. Let's see what we can find at the beach as we go up over the dunes.



The lifeguards keep a watchful eye on beach goers.



How about a little fishing with poles or nets?





Let's build something in the sand.



Or learn to surf.


Or fly a kite.



Or cover a body board with sand.


Or just relax with a good book in a chair under an umbrella.



These are some images from my favorite beach. Tell us about your favorite beach and the things you like to do there.
Merrillee

Labels: beach, fishing, fun, lifeguard, summer, sunscreen

posted by Merrillee @ 5:59 AM 7 comments

This Week on the Wet Noodle Posse

Labels: beach, Maureen Hardegree, Merrillee Whren, Pam Payne, swimming, Terry McLaughlin, working while vacationing

posted by Mo H @ 11:32 AM 0 comments

Happy Independence Day!

posted by Mo H @ 6:16 AM 0 comments

Q&A Friday!

Labels: favorite summer drinks, sweet tea

posted by Mo H @ 10:42 AM 6 comments

How Do You Dress a Hot Dog?

by Lee McKenzie

Few things are more quintessentially summer than a hot dog. Hot dog stands appear in parks and on street corners, and they’re definitely a picnic staple, especially if children are included.

There are standard wieners, smokies, foot-longs, turkey dogs, and tofu dogs, to name a few. They can be boiled, broiled, grilled, dipped in corn batter and deep fried, or roasted on a stick over a campfire. Most of us are willing to sample at least one, no matter what kind of hot dog it is or how it’s been cooked. It’s how we eat them that’s important.

I like mine with mustard. That’s it. Nothing else. Preferably hot mustard. No ketchup for me, thanks, and I’ll pass on the relish.

How do you dress your hot dog? Do you prefer one condiment? The works? Maybe some chopped onion? Or what about one of the more unusual hot dog fixings, like chili, Cheez Whiz or sauerkraut? What’s the weirdest thing you or someone you know has put on a hot dog?

Will hot dogs be part of your Fourth of July celebration this weekend? If so, I hope they’re just the way you like them!

Until next time,
Lee

***

Lee McKenzie writes light-hearted love stories for Harlequin American Romance. Her next book (working title—Wanted: One Mommy) has a tentative release date in early 2010. Tomorrow on her blog, The Writer Side of Life, she'll be sharing one of her favorite summer recipes for sangria. Please drop by!

Labels: Harlequin American Romance, hot dogs, Lee McKenzie, summertime

posted by Lee McKenzie @ 12:05 AM 26 comments

Summertime and the Living Is Easy

posted by Mo H @ 9:27 AM 2 comments

The Bittersweet Legacy

You can see I look like him. Same long face, long body. Even as I age, my face is taking on more and more of his features. There's a funny dent in my cheek exactly where he had one. And my hair, which was always stick straight, is beginning to curl like his.

We were alike in more ways than that. He was an intellectual who valued learning and wit, and a self-taught musician. He loved music, in fact, almost more than anything. In the photo, you see him in front of the electronic organ he has just built. He completed it four days before his 70th birthday. And then he sat down to learn to play it. I can still hear his high tenor voice, singing to his own playing.

Dad had me singing in front of the church congregation when I was 2 years old. I never knew what it was to be afraid of an audience because I had been there in front of them for as long as I could remember, and nothing scary had ever happened.

But he was a distant man, as far as his family was concerned. And he had a bit of a mean streak sometimes. I never understood that, and when he would belittle me, I felt it to the very bottom of my soul and believed myself unworthy of his love. I didn't know he couldn't do any better. It was what he had been given, by a father he despised.

He had a love of history. As we traveled, all five children and parents crammed into our 1954 Cadillac, he would often tell us stories of famous people. I didn't remember until recently how often he talked about Napoleon, but he was fascinated by the man who had come so close to ruling the world. And he had tales to tell about Huey Long, the Governor of Louisiana, for Dad had known him well and was nearby when that charismatic dictator of Louisiana had been assassinated. Dad despised those two dictators, yet he was obsessed with them. "Those who do not learn from the past are doomed to repeat it," he would often say.

I ate it up. I loved the history as much as the music. He questioned everything. He examined everything. Whenever he was not tending to his Gloxinias or orchids or Amarillis, he could be found drawing up some new idea for some kind of contraption or other, many of which he built. He'd say, "You never know if you don't try." And sometimes, "Let's run it up the flagpole and see if anybody salutes it."

He taught me to love plants and gardening, and to be fascinated with rocks. I just could never figure out Dad. It seemed even though I shared so many of his interests, he couldn't help but always tell me how I didn't measure up.

I remember:

I must have been about 6 when I came in from school crying because some bigger boys had been bullying and teasing me. Dad said, "If you don't want someone to get your goat, don't let them know where you tie it." I wanted comforting and didn't get it, but somehow that stuck with me. In later years, he said, "Don't give him the ammunition to shoot you." Which would have been better, the comforting or the axiom to guide me long after he was gone? It doesn't matter, because he could only give what he had to give.

I was 13 when we were traveling through the hot, dry land of Northern California on one of those horrendous family vacations, and suddenly Dad slammed on the brakes and pulled over. I thought it was yet another flat tire (we'd had three so far). But suddenly he was bending over, shouting at us to pick up the rocks. They were ugly, black things that looked like battered lumps of coal. But he was a geologist, and he had his rock hammer, and broke one open. Inside was a miracle of shiny, red and black striated natural glass. Mahogany obsidian. I've been fascinated by rocks and geology ever since. When we got home, my older brother and I learned how to chip arrowheads from the obsidian, and we took them to school and sold them for adollar apiece as "genuine Indian arrowheads". We were Choctaw, after all. Once I heard Dad bragging to a friend about it.

Yet when I told him once I wanted to be a geologist, he told me women didn't do that. He was right, of course. Women went to college to find husbands in those days. I could never grasp his idea that I wasn't meant for anything great. I believed everyone was, not just the boys. But in this way, he was a man of hs times. Women washed dishes and had children.

He taught me to experiment, to try the impossible, to sing and play music, to smash open rocks, to find out what makes the world tick, to look beyond a politician's smile and see what was really going on. I learned to design, to create. To write music, poetry, and stories. I learned to look into other people's souls, and to fiercely examine my own.

There were things I didn't learn, or learned because I didn't want to be like him. I learned to care about people, know and be with my children and give them support, in ways he could not have done. Because he was a brilliant but in some ways broken man. I know now that he loved me and my siblings. But I had to see through the cracks to find it.

The last thing he said to me before he died- I think he knew his time was coming- was that he knew he hadn't always been a very good father, and he'd done thngs he wished he hadn't. I wouldn't let him apologize, and I'm not sure why. I said, "Oh, Dad, we all do some things wrong. We can't help it. It's our job to do better than our parents, and maybe our kids will do better than we've done."

And so there was so much left unsaid when my brother called me the following week to say Dad had followed my advice and insisted on being seen by his doctor who kept telling him he "just had the flu". He had entered the hospital with congestive heart failure. He was told he needed yet another heart surgery, and he said, "No. I'm going home." He died before morning.

Yes, I am my father's daughter. My brothers tell me I am more like him than they are, but I think we are all like him in some ways. In spite of his limitations, he had a wonderful life. He was born in 1906, and would be 103 years old if he were still alive. He belonged to a different world from the one I live in now, and I don't know what he would have done if he ever saw a computer. Probably take it apart and figure it out.

He did a lot of things wrong, or no better than his own father. But he was a beautiful man.

posted by Delle Jacobs @ 3:00 AM 6 comments

One Magic Moment by Marie Force

We're off to a great start this week at the Wet Noodle Posse. Please help me welcome Contemporary Romance Author, Marie Sullivan Force! You can learn all about Marie at her website.

Have you ever experienced “a moment,” one in which you were acutely aware, as it was happening, that you would never forget it? Sometimes it’s about falling in love, other times it’s an instant of crystal clear clarity.

I had such a moment two years ago, the first time my then-eleven-year-old daughter stepped onto the stage in a middle school production of High School Musical. Playing Ms. Darbus, the stern but comical drama teacher, she tore up the stage collecting cell phones from her wayward detention students as her mother’s mouth hung open in the audience. Despite sharing the stage with ten of her peers, she owned the scene. Chills chased up and down my spine as time slowed, the crowd around me disappeared, and I realized I was witnessing raw, pure talent—the kind that someone either has or they don’t, the kind that can’t be taught or acquired.

When I “came to,” I wondered if it was an aberration, one amazing scene to be followed by mediocrity. Those fears were soon put to rest. In scene after scene, she continued to produce sheer magic. Of course, I thought, every parent sitting here is thinking the same thing: my kid is special. But at intermission people we knew and many we didn’t sought us out to say the same thing: “Oh my God, your daughter is amazing! She’s stealing the show!” Even the director expressed amazement. “Wow,” he said. “I didn’t see any of that in rehearsals.” Watching that first show, I had a very distinct feeling that I was seeing her destiny, and I’ve never forgotten it.

In my new book, Love at First Flight, my hero, Michael Maguire, experiences a similar moment of clarity the first time he lays eyes on Juliana Gregorio in an airport gate area. Even though he’s engaged and thinks his life is all set, he takes one look at Juliana and knows with every fiber of his being that she’s “the one” for him. The feeling is deep and visceral and profound. And he knows if he acts on it, lives will be changed, hearts will be broken, and not for nothing, the object of his instant affection will think he’s a lunatic.

Ryan Sanderson, the hero of my first book, Line of Scrimmage, was a true alpha in every sense of the word. Michael is a true beta. He’s quiet and loyal and dedicated and sincere. It would never occur to him to be unfaithful to his fiancée, even if she and her manipulative parents are on his last nerve. So when he meets Juliana and has an instantaneous reaction to her, he files it away but doesn’t forget about it. Later, when he has the opportunity to act on it, he never loses faith in the love-at-first-sight reaction he experienced. Despite having good reason to give up, Michael trusts that first instantaneous gut reaction until he gets the happily ever after he deserves. By the time I finished writing Love at First Flight, I was more than halfway in love with him myself!

Oh, and my daughter? She’s since been the Tin Man in the Wizard of Oz, Frenchie in Grease, and was recently cast in her first leading role as Charlotte in Charlotte’s Web.

Have you ever experienced a moment like Michael’s or mine? I’ll give away a copy of Love at First Flight to the commenter with the best story.

Love at First Flight will be available July 1, 2009. Pre-order your copy NOW!

Labels: Love at First Flight, Magic Moment, Marie Force

posted by Theresa Ragan @ 3:49 AM 23 comments

This Week on the Wet Noodle Posse

Labels: Delle Jacobs, hot dogs, Lee McKenzie, Marie Force, summer drinks

posted by Mo H @ 11:00 AM 0 comments